


Warehouse 50

by lamp_of_hetalia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Other, Violence, brotherly amecan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamp_of_hetalia/pseuds/lamp_of_hetalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters meet up with the North American Brothers. A bit of a crack!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

 There was blood everywhere: on the walls, the boxes scattered around the room, and all over the floor. But there was no body, no entity that could have bled, in the area. Sam was checking out the back room of the building, and he was having about as much luck as Dean. The front room was void of drag marks or something to indicate that a body—because there was no way anyone could have lost that much blood and survived—had been taken out of the warehouse.

After ten minutes of finding nothing, Dean discovered a pattern of footprints in the back of the front room that led to a metal cabinet against the back wall. Blood dripped from the crevices in the cabinet and Dean had no doubt as to what was inside. He called to Sam, and grabbed his gun from his pants, slowly opening the door. Two bodies fell to Dean's feet and he jumped back. When they didn't move, he got closer, and picked up a metal rod, proceeding to poke and prod them. The bodies looked like they had been shot an excess of ten times, and their clothes were soaked with blood.

“Dude, don't do that. It's wrong.” Sam had always hated it when Dean messed around with the bodies.

“I think they're breathing. Sammy, they're still breathing.”

“That's not possible.”

=-====-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=\

Alfred ached. He hadn't hurt this much since the Civil War. His muscles were sore and he tried to stretch his arms, but found his hands were bound.

“Hey Sammy, I think this one's awake.” A deep voice that America didn't recognize. He vaguely began to piece together what had gone down earlier in his mind: Mattie had met him at his summer house and they were supposed to be on their way to the paintball field when five cars surrounded the two nations. They had been taken to a warehouse and Alfred couldn't remember much after that. But he could remember seeing the men surrounding Mattie and not being able to do anything. The group of men had injected him with something and he could remember constantly being on the verge of unconsciousness. This deep voice had to be one of the men.

Alfred tried to break the binds, but he could still feel the drugs in his system, making it difficult.

“You won't be able to get outta those cuffs.” The deep voice said. Alfred opened his eyes, focusing on the source of the voice. He ran the man's face through his mind and concluded this was not one of the captors.

“Where's Mattie?” Alfred's voice cracked and his stomach surged. He knew that feeling; He'd been injured, _seriously injured._

“What?” The man got closer and Alfred was gradually starting to feel the drug work it's way out of his system. Sometimes inhumanly fast healing was a wonderful thing.

“Where is Mattie?” His muscles felt better now, the drug nearly out of his system.

“What are you?” A different voice, to Alfred's left, this one was a bit higher pitched, “We've tried silver, holy water, holy oil, salt, and whatever else and you haven't been effected by any of them. You obviously aren't human. I mean, you were shot ten times and you're alive, so there has to be something abnormal going on here.”

“Tell me where Mattie is.” With the drug out of his system, Alfred could break the binds. These men weren't the ones that attacked him though, so he didn't want to hurt them. He could see the deeper voiced man whispering to a taller man. While they were seemingly distracted, Alfred pulled his hands apart, effectively breaking the handcuffs. He caught the metal before it hit the ground, in an attempt to keep them from knowing that he had broken his bindings. Alfred's eyes scanned the room, finding Mattie in a chair next to him, handcuffed as well.

“Mattie.” Alfred scooted his chair toward the Canadian.

“HEY! You stay over there, buddy.” The deep voiced man stepped toward him and Alfred stood up, startling him.

“I don't want to hurt you, please don't make me.” Alfred glared, crushing the handcuffs in his hand.

“Whoa, we don't want any trouble.” The tall man grabbed the deep-voiced man's shoulder and pulled him back. They backed away a good distance and started whispering to each other again. Keeping an eye on the two strangers, Alfred knelt down next to Mattie and broke his handcuffs.

“Hey Mattie! Wake up.” He shook the Canadian's shoulder. Matthew cracked open his eyes and groaned.

“What happened, Al?” Matthew doubled over. He was starting to heal.

“We were kidnapped by a bunch of guys. They apparently shot us. Or maybe they stabbed us, I don't know. I just know I haven't felt this bad since, well--”

“The Battle of Somme.1” Matthew finished.

“Now there are two guys here wanting to know who we are—or more importantly, _what_ we are.”

“It's not like we can just tell them what we are.”

“I know that.”

“Then let's just go.”

“They seem like they don't want to let us go and, well, they're my citizens. I don't want to hurt them.”

“Al, they obviously aren't good citizens if they're trying to keep us here.”

“Well--”

“So,” The deep voiced man was speaking again, “what are you guys anyway? You said you didn't want to hurt us, but that's probably lie. Maybe you're some manipulative-super-strong-monster that we just haven't seen yet.”

“Monster? I'm not a 'monster', dude. I'm a hero.” Alfred glared at the deep-voiced man.

“Al, let's just go.” Matthew stood and pulled his brother up.

“I don't think we can let you guys go anywhere. You're dangerous.” Deep-voiced man started walking toward them, hand on what Alfred suspected to be a firearm.

“We're not dangerous, I assure you.” Matthew grabbed Alfred's hand, his stomach aching with a familiar burning sensation.

“Yeah? Then explain to me just how two normal, non-dangerous humans could survive ten gunshot wounds and massive bleeding. Explain to me how this guy,” The man gestured to Alfred, “can _crush_ metal handcuffs.”

“Well, Al is a bodybuilder and I think you are just _mistaken_ about the gunshot wounds.”

“I don't think I am. Now, what are you?” Deep-voiced man took his gun from his pants and aimed it at Matthew. Alfred stepped in front of his brother, blocking him from the line of fire.

“I told you, I'm a hero.”

“Yeah, well. I don't believe you, buddy.” Aiming the gun, the man shot Alfred in the stomach. The nation winced and then grinned, squeezing Matthew's hand.

“In 1776, I fought my elder brother for independence. In 1861, I fought my own people to unite the union. In 19172, I watched my people die overseas in the Great War. In 1941, I watched my people be attacked and get involved in the second World War. I've been shot over 100 times. Do you really think that gun is going to do anything?” Alfred took a step forward, blood once again soaking through his shirt, “All I wanted to do was spend a day with my brother. So could you _please_ let us go without any trouble?”

“We've got a patriotic monster.” Deep-voiced man called to tall-man. Alfred could see this would be going nowhere.

“Al, you're lucky that guy is dumb enough to not realize--” Matthew pulled his brother's hand.

“What's the point? Even if I tell them, even if they know, no one will believe them if they go around telling people. So what's the point in not telling them if it gets you _and_ them out of here unharmed?”

“You'll get in trouble with your boss.”

“How will Obama ever find out, huh? I know these guys don't work for the government. I would have seen them if they did.”

“I'll get in trouble with my boss.”

“I don't care about Harper.”

“Are you two done chatting? All you have to do is tell us what you are, and then we may—or may not—kill you.” Deep-voiced man smirked. Alfred took another step forward, Matthew following close behind.

“I'm The United States of America, and this is my brother, Canada.” His voice was steady and proud, and he was expecting a look of astonishment and apology to come to his citizen's face, seeing as he just shot his nation. Instead, the deep-voiced man laughed and gestured for his brother to come over to him.

“Sammy,” He was laughing too hard, “We've-we've got a patriotic and _crazy_ monster.”

“Alfred, I think it's time we were going.” Matthew started pulling America toward the door, but he wasn't moving.

“Ya know, it isn't that crazy. It could actually be true. We've seen weirder things, Dean.” Tall-man—Sammy, apparently—squinted at the two nations.

“Sammy, come on. How could that guy be The United States of America?” The man called Dean laughed again.

“Well, I don't know. It's not like we know everything. They could be telling the truth. Maybe we should call Bobby and ask him--”

“Bobby?” Something in America's brain clicked and he interrupted, “That wouldn't happen to be the Bobby I'm thinking of, would it? I'm assuming you two are hunters, so you wouldn't happen to know Bobby Singer would you? That couldn't be the Bobby you're talking about?”

“How do you know Bobby?” Alfred could see the anger in Dean's eyes. Maybe he'd struck a nerve.

“He's a friend of mine. A new friend actually, I've only known him for about 20 years.”

“ _Only_ 20 years?”

“Yeah. He never told me any of the details about what he did, but he told me that he hunted monsters. I thought it was super cool. I asked him to be my back-up sidekick one day and he said no. His loss.” Alfred laughed, instantly lightening the mood.

“So, if we just call Bobby, he would tell us who you are?” 'Dean' sounded like he didn't believe him.

“Yeah. Tell him you met America!” He was smiling now, even though they were in almost the same situation as before. 'Dean' pulled out his phone, his gun still pointed at the two nations, and dialed a number.

“Hey, uh, have you ever met The United States of America?” Dean was supposedly talking to Bobby.

“Yeah, I dunno. He's blonde, real patriotic, super strong? Oh. Alright.” He closed the phone, looking really disappointed.

“They're legit.” Dean turned to Sammy, “I can't believe they're legit.”

“Yeah, you're inside of me right now.” America smirked, chuckling through his teeth.

“What?” Both of the taller men turned to look directly at America, as if they misheard him.

“Yeah. There are tons of people inside of me. Canada is too. Don't worry. It's not that bad. Canada has a ton of people in him too. Not as many as me though.” Canada rolled his eyes and tugged on America's arm.

“Let's go. We're leaving.” Alfred still wouldn't budge, “Alfred. Let's go.”

“Your name is Alfred?” The shorter man looked at them in disbelief, “The United States of America's name....is Alfred?”

“Yeah. And he's Matthew.”

“That's such a dorky name.”

“Dean is a stupid name.”

“Dean is an awesome name.”

“No it's not. Alfred's the best. It's a hero's name.”

“Alfred.” “Dean.” The other two tried to interrupt the fight they both knew was brewing.

“There's no way that's a 'hero's' name.” Dean paused and smiled, “Well, maybe it's Aquaman's name.”

“You take that back!”

“You kinda even look like Aquaman, dude.”

“Yeah well you act like Prussia.”

“Who the hell is Prussia?”

“Dean, let's go.” Sam clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder, breaking his concentration on Alfred.

“But he--”

“I don't care.” Sam began to push his brother toward the door, throwing a strained smile over his shoulder in Canada's direction. “Try not to get shot next time.”

“We don't plan on it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America has a preposition for Canada. America and Canada centric.

 Months passed and the two sets of brothers went about their own lives, one set hunting things and the other set doing whatever they deemed worth their time. 8 months after the meeting, America showed up on Canada's doorstep with a new car and an idea.

“We should start hunting monsters.” The older blonde's grin was ear to ear, clearly expecting Matthew to just outright agree to his proposition.

“No.” The door was slammed in America's face but that didn't stop him. He stepped over to the closest window, lifted it open—Mattie never locked his windows—and climbed in. Matthew was sitting on the couch, staying completely un-phased when Alfred steps into the room. A good sign. That means he's considering the idea.

“We could save people. Your people, my people.” Alfred sat next to him and placed a hand on his thigh.

“We could also be found out.”

“Who in the world would find out and who would believe them? We've been over this.”

“I'm not getting involved in another one of your stupid schemes, Alfred.”

“Ah, you say that but you always end up going with me.” The American's grin widened and he gave Matthew a peck on the cheek.

“Only to make sure you don't decapitate yourself or something like that. Really, do you know how many times you would have ended up without a head if I hadn't been there? There was that one time in Nebraska--”

“We don't talk about Nebraska.”

“Exactly. And we don't even know how to fight monsters? Did you ever consider that?”

“I did and I have been researching all about that.”

“And?”

“I know everything.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, legit, ask me something.” Alfred was beaming now, wiggling impatiently in his seat, waiting for Matthew to ask him something. The Canadian sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

“How do you kill a monster?”

“What _kind_ of monster?” He was holding back a laugh, Matthew could tell.

“I don't know, a warewolf?”

“Silver.”

“Demons?”

“Exorcize them.”

“Alright.”

“What?”

“I believe you. Now get out of my house.”

“No, not until you agree to be my hunting buddy, Mattieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.” Alfred twisted his arms around Matthew's waist, preventing him from going anywhere, and put on his best 'pouting face'.

“No, Alfred. We have duties as nations, remember?”

“Wellllllll....couldn't we do those via Skype?”

“No.”

“Yes we could. Obama would be cool with it. I'm sure.”

“Obama would probably be happy that you weren't there.”

“And Harper barely knows you exist so we're even and good and let's go!” He pulled both of them into a standing position and grabbed Matthew's wrist.

“Harper knows I exist!” And with that, they were in Matthew's room packing up things. Within the hour they were on the road, Alfred ecstatic and Matthew a bit excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit short! I haven't written a multi-chapter fic in a while and I'm a bit rusty. I hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America and Canada start hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a ton of useless AmeCan in this chapter mostly because I wanted to write fluffy AmeCan and I'm so sorry.

Their first job seemed simple: a few dead bodies in Alabama that had fang marks on their necks. Alfred was convinced it was a vampire and loaded every gun he owned with a full round of silver bullets and stocked up on machetes and was utterly too excited for this whole thing. Matthew was glued to his computer, searching for every little detail about vampires he could find.

“Silver bullets won't work, Al.”

“They totally will.”

“You have to behead vampires. That's the consensus of what I've found on sites that were actually somewhat 'credible'.” He made air-quotes around the last word, rolling his eyes when Alfred huffed and glared at him. “I know you wanted to use your gun but hey, you can still use your machete.” 

“It's not the same....” America flopped down on the hotel bed. “I just wanna shoot somethin'.”

“I know, I know.” The Canadian smiled and closed his laptop, making his way over to the bed. He plopped down next to Alfred. “You can shoot something some other time, yeah?”

“I guess.” Alfred rolled over to face Matthew, intertwining their fingers once they were facing each other.

“Don't be so negative. You're the one that wanted to do this, right? If you just wanted to shoot something I could have taken you on a regular hunting trip. This is more than just shooting things, Al. You understand that, right?” Matthew could see Alfred rolling his eyes at him.

“Of course I know that! I want to save people, Mattie! Ya know, be a real life hero who goes around and kills bad guys.”

“You're already a hero, Al.”

“Not a real one.” There was a pout forming in Alfred's face as he snuggled up into Matthew's chest.

“Yes, you are. You save people everyday by just being alive. What would the world do without you? Where would all the stupid politicians live if you weren't here?” Alfred pinched Matthew's hand and glared up at him.

“My politicians aren't stupid.”

“Yes they are, dear.”

“They're not stupid, they're just special. They're too cool for any of you guys anyway.” Matthew put up no protest after that. He just massaged small circles into Alfred's back, trying to relax him. After a while, Alfred's eyes fluttered shut and his breathing evened out.

“It'll be alright, Al. You're going to do fine.” He leaned over and kissed Alfred's forehead, “Because no matter what happens, you're always a hero in my eyes.”

//==-=-=-=-=-=-//

The next morning, they set out into the outskirts of the city. The last victim was found a few hours before, not far from a small farm that was ten minutes outside of the city lines. When they arrived police were everywhere, scanning the area for any clues that might lead them to the killer. One of the policemen approached them when they got out of their car. His hair was light brown with a tinge of blonde flaked in near the back.

“This is a closed crime scene, gentlemen.”

“We're FBI.” Both Matthew and Alfred flipped out their badges: real FBI badges that Alfred had made especially for them—Alfred had apparently been friends with one of the guys who made the badges for years.

“Four FBI agents on one case? Was this girl the governor’s daughter or somethin'?” The police officer scoffed but led them back to the scene. Two rather tall men in suits were being led around by another officer. The officer leading Alfred and Matthew around gestured to the two tall men.

“There're your other agents. They can catch ya' up on everythin' ya need to be caught up on.” The officer left them and Alfred grabbed Matthew's arm.

“Do you see what I'm seeing?”

“The two guys from before? Sam...and Dean?”

“Yes.”

“We should get out of here, Al.”

“Why?? This is a valuable opportunity to learn from people who have been doing this sort of thing for years. Plus, they seem nice.”

“They do not seem nice _at all.”_

“They totally did seem nice! They only shot me once and that was probably because I scared them.”

“Alfred, they still shot you. That typically means that they aren't the most friendly people in the--” Before Matthew could finish, Alfred had grabbed his hand and began to drag him toward the two taller men.

“Hey!!!” Alfred yelled, waving at the two brothers with his free hand. The look on their faces was a cross between annoyance and horror. Sam waved the officer off and thanked him for explaining the situation to them.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Dean's hand immediately went to his pants, ready to pull his gun out at any moment. Alfred just smiled and extended his free hand to them,

“We're here to investigate the mysterious deaths in the area.” And that's when Dean's look of annoyance turned to a glare.

“What?”

“We're hunting.” America took his hand back, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean and Sam exchanged a glance and started walking over to their car, waving for America and Canada to follow them. When they reached the car, Dean looked around and once he decided that they were out of earshot from any perspective eavesdroppers, he looked back at America.

“You guys...are hunting?”

“Yes!” Alfred chirped back.

“Of course you are.” Sam ran a hand through his hair, distress showing clearly on his face.

“Yeah! You guys should show us how to kill vampires. And werewolves. And everything else.”

“No. Go home.”

“No.” Alfred was smiling still, his hand wrapped tightly around Mattie's.

“You don't want this life.”

“I do.”

“You'll never get out of it.”

“I doubt that.”

“You can't have any friends.”

“My friends are all pretty tough. I don't have to worry about them.”

“You'll never be able to start a family.” Dean thought he'd struck a nerve with that one. Alfred looked like the type of guy who would want a simple life in the country with a wife and a dog and a kid. When Alfred's smile dropped, Dean thought he'd won.

“I wasn't able to have one before, so that doesn't matter.” Dean had struck a nerve but it had the opposite effect.

“Teach us how to hunt.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not continue this. I don't know.


End file.
